


Coming Back

by cheeseeteevee



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fear, Fluff, Mexico, Stydia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-19 14:46:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2392214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeseeteevee/pseuds/cheeseeteevee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is shaken from his trip to Mexico but as usual, a certain strawberry blonde is there by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. His Return

**Author's Note:**

> A little something I started working on, hoping to make it multichapter!

Natalie Martin had no idea what was wrong with her daughter. Well, maybe “wrong” was not the correct word but nevertheless, Lydia was not acting the way she was used to act. Ever since Middle School, when she decided to no longer be the nerdy girl in school, she would spend endless hours getting ready in the morning, shopping at the mall or hanging out with the newest bad boys. But now, she spent all her free time in her room, pored over ancient history books or out with the sheriff’s hyperactive son – Stiles was his name?

There was a time when Lydia would have told her mother anything. Natalie was happy that she had such an open and honest relationship. She knew Lydia was a smart girl and trusted her enough to make her own choices. But now, she was at loss. Ever since her daughter lost Allison, she became closed off and distant, understandable, of course but Natalie didn’t know what to do. Give her space? Force her to open up? She didn’t know how to deal with grief, how could she lay that burden on her little girl?

***

Lydia’s mom stood in the kitchen, washing the dishes and gazing out the window, thinking yet again about what she could do to help her daughter. As she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom, she noticed through the small window in the hallway that Lydia was outside in the yard, sitting on a swing set her father had set up for over 10 years ago. She watched her for a moment, as Lydia sat quiet and still. It broke her heart to see her like this. Lydia had told her something vague about Stiles being gone for a couple days on a family emergency. Was it his absence that was making her even more closed off than usual?

She set out back down the stairs, heading towards Lydia outside.

“Hi sweetie,” she told her gently. Placing a comforting hand on her back.

“Oh. Hey mom,” she answered, sadness apparent in her voice.

“You doing okay honey?”

“Yeah I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep, that’s all. I’ll be okay.”

Natalie didn’t know much about what was going on in Lydia’s life. She had decided long ago that a teenage girl deserved her privacy. But she did know that there was a lot more going on in her life than Lydia would admit. She knew that Stiles must be in some form of danger, or Lydia would not be withdrawn like this. She also knew that Lydia probably cared for Stiles a lot more than she would ever admit to herself.

“You miss him don’t you?”

“Yeah… I told him to check in with me, but I still haven’t heard from him…”

“So you’re worried.”

“Yeah. Stiles would do anything to protect his friends and I appreciate that, but it doesn’t mean I don’t worry for his safety. He would risk his life and if I lost him too, I don’t know what I’d do.” Lydia paused for a moment gathering her thoughts. 

“Scott was kidnapped so he went down with Derek to find him,” Lydia admitted.

“Lydia honey, everything’s going to be find. I know that the sheriff has been working hard to investigate the case. He’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“You can’t promise that Mom.”

“You’re right. I can’t. But I can believe it and sometimes all you need is a little faith.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“No problem, honey. Get some sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay out here for a bit longer, I think.”

“Okay, I’ll be upstairs. If you need me, just holler,” her mother told her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Natalie made her way back towards the house but stopped at the door and turned around. “And honey, when he comes back, you should tell him how you feel. Life is too short to hold it all in.”

“Yeah,” Lydia told her half-heartedly. She couldn’t tell him though. She didn’t want to ruin the friendship they had. Losing Allison was enough, she couldn’t lose Stiles too.

Lydia continued to sit on the swing, tracing circles in the dirt with a stick she had found. Twirling and twirling, she got lost in the motion of the spirals forming in the ground.

A gentle voice startled her. A voice that had been strong and authoritative when protecting her, soft and delicate when comforting her. “Hey,” he told her.

She jumped out of the swing at the sound and stood frozen. He was back.

“Stiles,” she said in a hushed voice. But she couldn’t wait any longer. She ran to him and without thinking wrapped her arms around him. He hesitated for a moment but then brought his arms together around her. He stroked the back of her head, his fingers running through her fiery hair. 

She closed her eyes and lost herself in him, too afraid to let go. She hadn’t realized how much Stiles meant to her until she was forced to spend those torturous few days without him, not knowing where he was, what was going on or if he was even alive.

But he was alive and she was so relieved. Because if her soul mate had been ripped from her, she wasn’t sure how she could’ve handled it.

Eventually, she let him go, needing to know what had gone down in Mexico.

“Why didn’t you call? I was worried sick!” she asked him.

“Our phones, no service and they all died.”

It was then that she noticed how worn down he was. There were scratches all over his arms and face, bags under his eyes, his hair was sticking out in everyday direction, yet he was still the portrait of beauty, his pure soul and warm heart shone through despite it all.

“Oh God, you’re hurt Stiles,” she said, her hand tracing the lines on his face.

“It’s fine, there were more Berserkers than we expected. I’m okay now though. I’m happy to see you. Sorry for worrying for you.”

“I’m just glad you’re back. I was afraid that I … that I might lose you too.”

“I’m here now. Here, let me explain to you what we found,” he said, leading her towards the stairs of the house. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the steps as he explained to her how Liam had managed to break Scott out of the Berserker, Derek’s transition, Kate’s reasons for wanting to kill Scott. Lydia listened attentively, holding his hand and rubbing her thumb on the back his palm soothingly.

When he finished speaking, her held her close, pulling her into him, reaching his arm around her and holding her tight. She melted into his hold, his warmth heating her up. They sat there quietly and a strange sense of peace hung over them. For that short moment, their worries were over.


	2. Scars and Tissue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following his return from Mexico, Lydia finds that Stiles had been severely hurt and attempts to fix him up.

“For now.” For now things were fine. For now they would be okay. But life in Beacon Hills always expanded beyond the “for now.” Because after the “for now,” came the “later.” And the “later” was frightening.

***

Stiles held Lydia with her on the steps for a while longer, until Lydia broke their calm silence.

“We should get you cleaned up, Stiles. You’re pretty beaten up,” she told him, touching the various scrapes on his cheek, taking in his heavy bruising and the crusted blood that splattered all over his face and arms. 

“It’s really not that bad. I don’t have supernatural healing abilities, but it’ll all heal in good time.”

“You can’t stay like this. Your cuts look deep, they could get infected. I am not going to sit idly while an invisible murderer takes your life, Stiles!”

“I don’t really have a choice in the matter do I?” he asked her, smiling a little as he saw how fierce and slightly bossy she was getting.

“No, you don’t!”

“Fine, lead the way,” he told her simply.

She grabbed his hand instinctively and led him up to her bathroom. She rummaged through cabinets, taking out towels, cotton swabs, band aids and pain killers. She ran the faucet and soaked the towel. She moved over to where he was, perched on the edge of her bathtub and started by wiping off all the dried blood from his face. She tried to be gentle as she noticed Stiles’ wincing but there was just so much blood. She wasn’t scared of blood necessarily, she just couldn’t handle imagining how much pain he was in. She had to fight to hold in the tears that were ready to erupt, seeing his damaged self. She rinsed off the towel and proceeded to clean off his arms. From the palms of his hands to the sleeve of his t-shirt, there were scrapes and bruises. 

“Stiles, this might be easier if you took off your shirt,” she told him.

“I-I can’t…” he said nervously. He didn’t want her to say how badly he had gotten hurt. He knew it was hard enough on her seeing the rest of his torn up body.

“Stiles.” She knew he was hiding something he wouldn’t want her to see. “I have to check the rest of you; if you’re seriously hurt, I have to know!”

“I-I’m sorry, it’s pretty gruesome…” he said, hesitantly pulling his shirt off over his head.

Lydia took a step back, taking it all in.

“Oh my God, Stiles. What happened?!” He must have changed shirts at some point to cover up his true damage because there were deep cuts across his collarbone, a huge bruise forming over the left side of his ribcage, around what looked like very deep claw marks. And then there was the bleeding. In the cut on his ribcage, over his collarbone, his ribcage, everywhere there was bleeding. How had she not noticed how it had pooled through his shirt?

“Oh, Stiles…” she said, letting a tear fall. Stiles was supposed to be her savior but now, he was completely and utterly broken. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see this. You’ve seen enough gore in the past few months to last several lifetimes. I’m so sorry, Lydia…” He knew how sensitive she was to people’s pain. It was why she masked her own so well. Somehow, especially as she gained her banshee powers, she had come up with the idea that she had to protect everyone. So when she saw them in pain or hurt, it broke her.

“This is not your fault, Stiles! I’m the one who shouldn’t have let you go to Mexico with them! Oh God, Stiles. How could they do this to you?”

He reached out both his hands and held them around her free one. 

“Lydia, listen to me. None of this is your fault. Don’t ever blame any of this on you! If it weren’t for you, we would be in way too deep. You said I’m the one who always figures it out? I’m not. It’s you, Lydia. We’d be nowhere without you.”

“It doesn’t feel that way… I just hear voices, I can’t help.”

“Lydia…”

“No, it’s fine. Let me just clean this up. We have to cover up all the wounds before they get infected. The ride back from Mexico must have exposed you to all sorts of horrible things. We don’t have a lot of time.”

She grabbed another towel, and cleaned off all the blood from her chest. She took out the alcohol swabs and disinfected his wounds. He winced as he could feel the burning sensation of the disinfectant but was grateful for her caretaking. She could make a great doctor someday, he thought. She took out some antibiotic ointment for good measure and knelt down but as she was about to start applying it to his cuts, her fingers started shaking. Looking at them so close, she could see how cut the Berserkers’ claws had gone. 

“Oh God,” she gasped, unable to start the flow of tears that had escaped her eyes. “They could have taken you forever,” she said through tears.

She collapsed onto his lap, her head on his knees.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, her voice muffled. “I just can’t handle seeing you like this. We need to take you to a doctor. They’ll know better than me.”

“Hey, hey. You’ve done more than enough already. I couldn’t have asked for a better caretaker,” he told her.

“Let me just finish. Then I’m driving you to the hospital,” she said, steadying her fingers and placing ointment over all his wounds. She grabbed the bandages and covered them all. She took a step back for a moment, taking in all the bandages. When she looked at him that way, cleaned up and shirtless, her heart fluttered a little, his toned pecs and abs something she had never noticed before. She imagined that that’s what happened when they spent their lives running around chasing creatures thousands of times stronger than they were. Her gaze caught his for a short but infinite moment. In his brown eyes, she found the part of Stiles that no creature could steal, no matter how hard they tried: the selfless, kind, loyal, geeky boy she had managed to ignore for the better part of a decade. Of course it’s in this time of crisis that she noticed just how much she had been missing.


	3. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stiles gets sicker, Lydia starts freaking out.

He has trouble breathing. One second he’s fine and the next, he sees fog collecting in front of him. He can’t see anymore. His breathing speeds up, until suddenly, he can’t breathe at all. His head is pounding. His lungs are exploding. He’s gasping for air, submerged in every dark thing he has ever experienced.

She hears whispers, voices, teaming up in every end of her head. But her head is her grip on the world and suddenly, they’re everywhere. Up and down and left and right there are voices. Then suddenly, the urge to scream. To scream for the past. To scream for what surely awaits in the future. To scream for all the voices clouding her thinking, in the present.

***

Once Lydia has done her best to patch Stiles up, she ran out to her dad’s closet to find him a new set of clothes. She grabbed a t-shirt and some sports shorts that she prayed will fit him okay. When she came back to her bathroom, she finds that Stiles has turned a significant number of shades paler, he has slumped to the ground, legs sprawled in front of him, leaning back on the tub.

“St-Stiles?”

“Lydia,” he croaks. “It hurts. It hurts everywhere.”

“Okay, we’re taking you to the hospital right now! Mom!” she yelled.

Hearing her daughter’s cry for help, Natalie jumped out of her bed and ran down the hall to Lydia. When she entered the bathroom, she found Lydia in tears, trying to hold up a slumped over Stiles.

“Oh God, what happened to him, Lydia?”

“I don’t know, he’s just hurt everywhere, I think one of his cuts might be getting infected. We have to get him to the hospital right now!”

“Okay, you grab one side, I’ll get the other,” she instructed to her daughter. Together, they held up a moaning Stiles, supporting him as they walked towards Natalie’s car.

“Lydia, sit with him in the back. Keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t fall asleep.”

“Of course,” she said instantly, carrying his limp body into the back seat of the car. 

“It hurts…” he moaned.

“I know, Stiles. I know. We’re getting you to the hospital right away. Someone will help you. It’ll be okay.”

“Lydia…” he croaked, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Shh, shh, Stiles, please. Stay with me. Don’t go to sleep yet, please!”

“H-h-hurts…”

“Oh God, no, just stay with me, Stiles. You can do it. Please stay with me,” she pleaded as tears poured freely from her eyes. “Mom, hurry! Look at him!”

“I know Lydia, I’m doing my best but I can’t risk all of our lives!”

“Just hurry please,” she begged.

Natalie looked up into the rear view mirror, catching sight of her daughter in the back, stroking her friend’s hair, silently weeping as he lay across her lap. The pain never seemed to end with Lydia. First her father leaving. Then, Jackson moving thousands of miles away. And now Stiles, the poor kid who was always asking about Lydia. She stepped on the gas pedal. She had to get them to the hospital. Fast.

Finally, they made to the entrance of Beacon Hills Memorial. Natalie didn’t even care about the thousands of traffic and parking violations she had probably just broken. She didn’t care. She just needed to make sure that Stiles got the help he needed. 

They burst through the doors of the hospital, finding Melissa McCall at the front desk.

“Natalia! Lydia! What happened?” Melissa exclaimed, noticing how they were carrying a fragile-looking Stiles. He was still conscious, that was a good sign.

“I don’t know. He showed up tonight all beaten up. I cleaned him up a bit, gave him some painkillers and cleaned up his wounds but I-I just left to get him a set of clothes and when I came back, h-he was j-just collapsed on the floor. I-I don’t kn-know what h-happened?” Lydia said through tears. “You can help him, right?”

“Of course, Lydia. Help me get him on a bed.”

A doctor rushed towards them and lifted him onto a hospital bed which they pushed into an empty examination room. The doctor took off his shirt, taking in all the cuts and bruises across his upper body. 

“I’m going to need you to wait outside,” he told to Natalie and Lydia.

“No, I’m not leaving him!” yelled Lydia.

“I’m sorry miss, but we can’t have anyone in here while we get him fixed up. Your friend will be fine. We’ll keep you updated.”

“Lydia, we can wait outside, come on.” Natalie said, guiding her daughter into the waiting room.


	4. Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and the Sheriff are at the hospital, hearing the doctors diagnose Stiles' condition.

Lydia was pacing the waiting room for what felt like the millionth time. She hated sitting down, not knowing what was going on. Finally, the doctor came in and approached them. Lydia walked briskly towards him.

“Is he okay?” she asked him eagerly.

“Yes, he’s going to be fine. He has a deep cut just under his left ribcage that was starting to get infected. We managed to draw the pus out and clean it so he’ll be fine. You did a fine job of cleaning him up and bringing him to us. He may also be suffering from some post-traumatic stress and might have trouble breathing from time to time. The infections themselves were not very severe but sometimes psychological damage may manifest itself physically. Do you know exactly what happened or any kind of trauma that may be causing him a significant amount of stress?”

Lydia suddenly realized what was happening. When he was trying to save Scott, he wasn’t just doing it to save his best friend. He was trying to redeem himself from not being able to save his mother. Of course he would put the blame on himself.

“He, uh, he’s pretty clumsy and he went into the forest for a run. He fell over and some kind of animal seems to have attacked him.”

“Yes, I figured that’s what happened. We’ve been getting a lot of those lately,” the doctor told her. “He may still be recovering from the shock of the attack, and that will cause him some stress.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Lydia asked him, not really expecting an answer considering that she had just told the doctor a completely bogus explanation for his injuries.

“Physically, he should be doing better by tomorrow. We’re going to keep him overnight to make sure nothing goes wrong. From the psychological side though, he’s going to need his friends and family. Patients with PTSD often tend to drift away from society so just make sure you stay by his side.”

“Yes, I can do that.”

At that moment, the Sheriff came bursting through the doors.

“What happened to my son?!” he exclaimed. “Where is he?!”

Lydia rushed over to him, explaining the situation to him, reassuring him that his son would be fine.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, my cellphone was turned off because we were doing some investigating… I was so worried when I saw all the missed calls… My son!”

“He’s fine, Sheriff,” she tried to reassure him. “When will we be able to see him?” she asked the doctor.

“He’s sleeping right now. You’re free to go in now or wait until he wakes up, we’ll let you know.”

The Sheriff didn’t even wait for approval before heading towards the room where Stiles was sleeping, followed by a quickly moving Lydia. The sheriff made his way to Stiles’ bedside, cupping his forehead, holding his hand, whispering encouraging words to him. Even though the doctor had guaranteed that he would be fine, he knew that in Beacon Hills, there was always something more, something coming. 

Lydia stood in the doorway, silent tears streaking her face, unsure of how many times she would find herself in the hospital before she lost it completely. She knew there had to be something that happened in Mexico that made him like this. Something more than the Berserkers and Kate. He was always the one who kept it together, probably for her sake most of the time, she realized. But now, he was simply completely and utterly broken.

***

Once the whole pack had come by to check on Stiles, Lydia and the Sheriff stayed behind.

“I can wait outside, if you want a moment with him,” the Sheriff. Stiles may be convinced that he was over Lydia but he knew that there had to be something more there.

Lydia turned pink, “Uh, no that’s okay – I-I mean, if you want to stay?”

He just smiled at her, and turned to the door.

When the door of the hospital room closed behind him, Lydia moved from the couch to the bed. She sat down on the edge, reaching for his hand. With her free hand, she stroked his hair. She waited. The doctor had said he was okay and she knew that he needed rest but she couldn’t leave him until he woke up.

“Stiles,” she told him softly, “Please come back to us. Come back to me. I can’t…”

She can’t what? She wasn’t one of those girls who lived their whole life for a guy. One of those girls who would absolutely die if their boyfriend left them. But Stiles wasn’t her boyfriend and she wasn’t one of those girls. This was different. With the number of times Stiles had gone out of his way to protect her, to save her, there was a very real chance that she wouldn’t be able to go on without him. 

Suddenly, she felt his hand squeeze hers softly. It was a small squeeze and at first, she was convinced she had imagined it. But then he slowly opened his eyes and said, “I’m here.”

“Oh my God, Stiles!” she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God…”

“I wasn’t ready to stop pissing you off with my sarcasm just yet, Lydia.”

“Oh, shut up. I’m just so happy you’re awake!” she exclaimed, leaning down and giving him a quick hug. She placed her hands on both his cheeks, “You scared the hell out of me Stiles.”

“I know, I’m sorry Lydia… It’s just… Since the nogitsune… I guess I never really recovered,” he told her. And as usual, she could tell he wasn’t trying to go too deep into it, so as not to worry her.

“Stiles. You have to tell me what happened down there! I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

“I know. I love you for trying to help me but I’m just processing. Can we talk about it later? When I get released maybe?”

“Stiles…”

“Just stay with me, please?

“You know I’d never leave you.” she told him simply.

“Of course. But can you lay with me maybe? There’s enough room for the both of us and…” he said, hesitant.

“And?”

“I- Well- You being with me? It helps with the anxiety. Probably because you’ll never cease to take my breath away.”

“Stiles…” she told him again. 

“Just come here with me until the doctors come back.”

“Okay,” she said quietly, kicking off her shoes on the hospital floor and squeezing into the bed with him. She lay on her side, facing him, gazing into his beautiful, chocolate brown eyes for what felt like an eternity, as his fingers toyed with the loose strands of her long hair, until he fell asleep again. But this time, she knew his sleep would be peaceful, she could feel it.


	5. Midnight Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles admits to Lydia what has gotten him so freaked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! So I realize this story is moving very slowly but I feel like I need to build up Stiles/Lydia's relationship/friendship first. It's gonna take a darker turn later and I just really think a lot needs to be set forward first. I hope you guys enjoy!

Drowning. That’s what was happening. He was drowning. Gasping for air. Trying to regain his grip on reality. Is this real life? Is he dreaming? He has to be. Because life could not be this painful. All he had ever done was try to protect his friends. But he can’t stop panting. Struggling for breath. His lungs are collapsing in him. And then all black.

She lets out a scream. Pushing it all away from her. With the scream she tries to push away some of the pain. But it still stays until she feels completely weakened by it. It crushes her, not be able to do anything but scream. It hurts everywhere. She can’t fight the pain. It consumes her until there is nothing left of her but the limp image of what used to be a fearless girl.

***

The next day, Stiles was released from the hospital. After Scott and the rest of the very disconcerted pack came by to make sure Stiles was okay, Lydia drove him home, per the Sheriff’s request. 

“How are you feeling?” Lydia asked Stiles as she pulled into the driveway of Stiles’ house.

“Lydia, I am fine. Just like I was 10 seconds ago, and 20 seconds ago and 10 minutes and every of the other 47 times you’ve asked me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried! I still barely understand what is going on with you!”

He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’ll explain everything, okay? Can we at least eat dinner or something first? I’m starved.”

“Fine, but this is the last time you’re dodging this, I’m serious!”

“Food first, serious talk second.”

“Fine.”

***

Once Stiles had thrown together a meal for them from scraps in the fridge, they settled down in Stiles’ room. Lydia was perched on the edge of his bed, Stiles sitting at his desk chair across from her.

“So…?” Lydia told him anxious.

“So.”

“Stiles.”

“What?”

“Stiles, what happened in Mexico that has gotten you in this state? You have to tell me the truth! You can’t keep hiding things from me.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Stiles. I just want you to be honest with me.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said quietly. He sat silently for a moment, gathering his thoughts. It wasn’t exactly that he didn’t want to tell her what had happened. He wanted to tell her very much, they told each other everything. It was simply that if he confessed what had gone down, it made the threats more real. And he wasn’t sure he could handle that very well. But he knew that he owed it to Lydia, and to himself, to tell what had happened.

“Okay… So when we were in Mexico, Kate started talking about how Scott had destroyed her family and how so many of them were dead. About Allison and Gerard and how he was just a kid who had managed to ruin a legacy of successful hunters. At first, she was all, ‘I’m going to ruin you, like you have ruined me.’ She threatened to kill him. But then she decided that if he died, he wouldn’t feel the pain that she had supposedly gone through. She said that she didn’t just want him dead, she wanted him to suffer. I thought she was threatening our lives too, you and me and Kira and Malia and all our friends. But then she went on about how it wouldn’t be enough just for Scott to suffer. We should all have to too. She- she…” His voice broke as he remembered her violent threats.

“Stiles… What did she say?”

“She said that… That she would go after our families. That if Scott could ruin hers, then she could ruin all of his pack’s. You know who’s first on her list now?”

“Oh no, Stiles, it can’t be!” she said, the realization of who she would go after next dawning upon her.

“My dad, Lydia! I can’t let anything happen to him! I can’t lose him too! I can’t be an orphan. God this is all my fault. If I hadn’t been so frickin’ stupid that time in the forest last year, Scott would never be a werewolf, you would never have been attacked by Peter, all our friends would be alive. I can’t-I can’t- I can’t let this happen! I’ve already done so much! Why can’t she just go after me? I’m the one she should be after! I-I- L-Lydia, I can’t-“

His breathing was getting heavy, he couldn’t see straight. Images of his father’s mangled body, of Lydia’s body were flashing before his eyes. Scott and Melissa and Malia and Kira, all he could see were their bodies bleeding out. He tried to block them out, regain his grip on reality but he couldn’t shake it off. Everything was dark and blood and he could feel his lungs collapsing in me.

“Stiles? Are you okay? What’s happening?!” she asked him, as his breathing got harder and he tried to squeeze his head between his knees. “Oh God, it’s a panic attack again isn’t it?”

“Hey, Stiles, look at me,” she tried to tell him, reaching and grabbing his hands. “Just breathe, we won’t anything happen to him. We always figure it out, right?”

He lifted his head up and the tears were flowing down endlessly. His chest was still heaving and his skin had gone pale.

“Stiles, breathe, please,” she pleaded.

She held up her hands to his face, holding him still.

“Look at me. I’m here. We’re going to be fine. We’ll get through this together.”

In that moment, she desperately wanted to kiss him again. For a brief moment, she is brought back to that moment in the locker room.

He was shaking, body heaving. Her breathing was accelerating too, she was panicking with him. What was happening to him? She tried to convince him to think of happy things, slow his breathing. She held his face in her hands, hoping that if he focused on her, he might be able to get his breathing back to normal. But the way he looked at her, with those chocolate eyes that held all the dorkiness, awkwardness but also the kindness and purity of his character, made her mind go numb for a moment. All she could think about was how close her fingers were too her lips, how there was just a tiny distance between their faces. He was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at and for that moment, she felt the same about him. So she kissed him.

“How did you do that?” he had asked her. Not “Why did you do that?” or “What was that for?” He didn’t even seem to suspect that she had kissed him because she truly wanted to. He was simply focused on the fact that his panic attack had stopped and that she had helped him control it.

So she covered it up with a sad excuse: that if she kissed him, he would hold his breath and that would stop his panic attack. But really, her breath was taken away. She was amazed that he believed her.

“That was smart.” he told her simply. It was when she said that that she knew. He was it for her. He didn’t care about her clothes or her makeup. He saw behind the mask for her intelligence and nature. He saw her for her. No one else had managed to do that before. Stiles Stilinski was it.

But she couldn’t do that again. It had been months since then and they still hadn’t talked about what it meant. She just wanted him to be okay. She wanted the light back in his eyes, the excitement and hyperactivity of this boy. She needed her Stiles back. So she got off the bed, walked towards him and wrapped her arms around him. She held him tightly, waiting as his heart beat and body slowed down. When all she could feel was his steady pulse through her chest and his warm breath down her neck, she was relieved. He was okay for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave comments!
> 
> And visit me at wewantstydia.tumblr.com


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